BLOG OFF FOR BREAST CANCER V2.0 -- BREASTS

That's right, BREASTS! Our word for this week in the blog off is breasts. My thoughts initially turned to the show Scrubs and how Elliot has a hard time using the proper medical terms for certain body parts. For example she substitutes vagina with the word "bajingo" and in one episode she makes it clear that cervical mucus would now be referred to as "icky sticky." I decided however that as humorous as it may be to write about that, I thought it more important that I write about the second thing that came to my mind when I thought about the word breasts--Chicken Breasts, of course!!
Does it seem odd that chicken breasts is what came to my mind when I found out the word for this week was breasts? Perhaps. But the reality is, as much as I could sit here and talk about boobs and how they come in all shapes and sizes I just really didn't see the point when I could be letting you all in on the secret that I am crazy and I have a fear of raw chicken.

When chicken is cooked I LOVE it. So much in fact, that most of the time I will choose chicken over beef almost every time. Unless of course it is a big juicy steak, then it's a toss up. But most of the time I want the chicken. Chicken breasts are my favorite. BBQ me up a nice big chicken breast with a little teryaki sauce and we will be best friends forever. You heard me, BFF you and me, 4-ever!! In all seriousness though, as much as I love a cooked juicy chicken breast, there is a whole dark side to it that chills me to the very bone.
That time of day when it is time to get supper ready and I have to pull the freshly thawed chicken breasts from the fridge, put them on the cutting board and go to work preparing them. The very thought alone sends shivers down my spine. The look, the feel, the very idea makes me want to vomit. Usually if I am cutting up the chicken breasts for something like stir fry I will try and convince Chris to do the cutting so I don't have to spend all that time touching the slimy breasts. When he isn't around to do it I have no choice but to suck it up and do what needs to be done, but it is hard work and it takes a lot of mental toughness and gnashing of teeth on my part.

Then there is the clean up. I am obsessive. The garbage bag that holds the discarded parts of the raw breasts needs to be taken out to the garbage cans and not to be left in the house. Every inch of counter needs to be washed and disinfected. Every dish, knife or anything else that the chicken may have touched needs to be scrubbed clean. And then there is the hand washing and the turning the taps on without touching them with any parts of the hand that may or may not have raw chicken goo on them.

After all that is said and done and the chicken is all cooked and ready to be devoured I still obsess about whether it is cooked enough and check 18 times over to make sure it is not pink. One time at Red Robin when I ordered a chicken burger I asked for it very well done. The waitress looked at me strangely and said "uh yeah, it is always cooked well done, it's chicken!" DUH! My mistake, I felt silly and laughed at myself. Clearly I had a brain fart and asked for my burger well done like I would ordering beef. Or maybe it was my crazy coming out subconsciously. Either way it made for a good laugh for all who were present.

OCD much? Perhaps a little. And now that I have gone public with my private fear of chicken I am certain that some of you will never let me live it down. And I am okay with that, I can take it. Just always know that when I have the chance I will return it, don't ever doubt that.

This was a post for the blog off for breast cancer. If you would like to make a donation to this great cause, please click on the banner below and leave Courtney a few bucks towards her walk for the cure. You can also find the links for all the participants in my side bar if you would like to check out some of the other posts on the word breasts.